To Die as Myself
by thewriteranon
Summary: Perhaps I was prepared to be reaped, but I never expected to be reaped with her. A Peeta POV fic.
1. Chapter 1

**I** can't concentrate the day of the reaping.

"Hold still," says my mother as she combs my hair back. I wasn't moving before, but now I am as still as a statue. She slathers the gel on my head, making sure every last hair is perfectly in place. "Presentable," she decides. I jump out of the chair and hurry out the front door as fast as I can make it before my mother decides that she needs to fix something else about me.

The day of the reaping always brings an intense atmosphere, and this one is no different. As I walk down the path to the square, my eyes scan the crowd for familiar faces. Kids I know from school pass by, faces pale and worried. Those from down in the Seam are particularly quiet and panic-stricken this day. It's sort of hard not to be at least a little afraid, even if your name is in only once.

My name is in five times this year.

But it's not really me I think about every year on reaping day. My name may be in five times, but some I know are in ten, fifteen, even twenty times. Or more.

I see her just as I'm being herded into the boys' roped off section. She's dressed in blue and her hair's been put up and she looks even more stunning than I remember, even with a sullen look on her face. Then, as if she can hear what I'm thinking, she looks over at the boys' section and I turn away. But she's not looking at me. I turn my head just a little bit and find the real reason she looked over here. There's a smugness about Gale Hawthorne that I really don't like. Or that could just be the jealousy talking.

And so the reaping begins. First the mayor speaks, reminding us all that The Hunger Games are the price of rebellion. I pay little attention. I've heard it all before. Haymitch Abernathy, the only living Hunger Games victor from District 12, interrupts by drunkenly wanders onto the stage and hollering about. The mayor looks distressed, but Effie Trinket soon hurries up to take over the microphone, looking ridiculous as ever.

"Ladies first!" I shift uncomfortably. My hands have started sweating. I just want this all to be over, but Effie takes her time picking a name out of the reaping ball. "Primrose Everdeen," she announces to the crowd.

I know before the little blonde girl gets to the stage what's going to happen. Out of the corner of my eyes I can see her sister move, making strangled calls for Primrose Everdeen. And I feel my whole body go numb even before the words "I volunteer as tribute!" leave Katniss Everdeen's mouth. And I stare at her on that stage, watch as the realization starts to flood her, and I'm feeling that same realization with her.

I almost miss the part where Effie draws the boy name from the reaping ball.

And it's me.

I'm the second tribute for District 12.

I have one brother still eligible for the Games, but I don't have to look at him to know he's not going to volunteer. No, I am going to die. And I know I'm going to die, because there is no way I will let Katniss die.

I'm sure the look on my face registers as simple shock, no different from any of those that have gone before me. That's the only solace I can have here, that no one in this crowd can read my mind. No one knows that I have had a crush on Katniss Everdeen ever since we were five years old. Maybe that is something that will die with me.

My head is racing as the mayor gives his last speech. When the time comes for me to shake Katniss's hand, I've regained some feeling in my previously numb body, and I've dried my palms, but I still can barely control myself as I look her in the eye. I'm surprised to see recognition in her eyes. We've never directly spoken.

Not with words, at least.

I give her hand a squeeze, my one effort to reassure her in some way. Once upon a time we'd had an unspoken communication. Once. If I'm lucky, she'll understand. But I'm not very lucky. The reaping is proof enough of that.


	2. Chapter 2

**I** thought Haymitch might forget

The thing about Haymitch is that he's a lot smarter than you would expect of a drunk like him. I really don't expect him to remember anything about the day before when I had helped him clean off after he fell into his own vomit.

"So what's your deal, kid?" asks Haymitch as he sits himself across from me at the breakfast table. I look up to find my mentor pouring himself a glass of some kind of spirit for breakfast. At the end of the table Effie is frowning.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Haymitch," says Effie sternly. Haymitch ignores her.

"Come on. With the girl?" I shrug and return to my breakfast. There's some rolls in the center of the table, nice and fluffy. I take a couple, quickly biting into one to avoid having to answer Haymitch's questions. Even sweeter and fluffier than what we make at home. I don't imagine that's hard to do with the type of products the Capitol has the chance to use in their food.

"Haymitch," Effie says again, standing up now. "Don't you dare." Haymitch raises his glass to her and shakes it around, chuckling. "You are going to embarrass us all again."

"Can't help it. It's the only thing that makes you look better." I raise my eyebrows and look over at Effie, who looks completely taken aback by this latest remark. "So what is it, then?" asks Haymitch, turning back to me. Beside him Effie continues to splutter. "Do you like her?" He lowers his glass and peers at me.

"I can't believe you just said that to me!" Effie manages, completely ignoring me, which is all for the best, really.

"Well, have you looked in a mirror lately? Don't answer that." Haymitch takes a sip of his drink and Effie huffs off with her nose in the air. I try to shield my face with one of my rolls as I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. This is all just too much for me.

Then Katniss walks in.

I really hope she didn't hear that last conversation.

* * *

As we reach the Capitol I'm watching Katniss out of the corner of my eye. She doesn't look happy…Or hopeful is what I mean. No one is happy around here. Well, except maybe Effie. I return my attention to the crowd outside our train. Smiling. Waving. I return the greetings as cheerfully as I can, and it's a little hard not to be amazed and impressed by the Capitol outside our window. Katniss, I can tell, is not nearly as enthusiastic.

We're rushed through the crowds to another building where Katniss and I are split up. The Remake Center. Before meeting with my stylist, I'm bathed, combed, shaved, and some other number of things I can't identify are done to me. When the prep team is done with me, a tall woman with her hair sticking out in wide, bright curls strolls in. This is my stylist, Portia. Despite the odd hair, and some strange color on her face (a bright bluish color on her lips and eyes), she seems relatively normal for a Capitol citizen.

"Hello there, Peeta." I swallow uncomfortably as Portia walks closer, examining my naked body. My fault, really. There was a robe, but it barely got worn when the prep team was at work so I didn't bother trying to wear it again. I try to remind myself that it could always be worse, though I'm now sure how. "I'm Portia."

"I figured that." It comes out a little harsher than I had intended, but Portia just smiles. Her teeth are unusually white. I'm not sure if she's had work done or if the Capitol just has better toothpaste. Or both.

"You can sit up if you want." I do. It's cold. And then Portia sits next to me, which makes me even more uncomfortable. Hoping she won't notice, I lay my hands on my lap. "I'm sure you're aware of how the parade works, am I right?" I nod. Every year the tributes are loaded into chariots dressed in the most ridiculous and attention-grabbing costumes the stylists can come up with. Every year the District 12 tributes are coal miners. Could be worse. "Cinna and I thought we'd do something a little different this year."

"What do you mean?"

"How do you feel about fire?"


	3. Chapter 3

**S** he absolutely shined during the parade.

I gaze at Katniss in wonder as she walks into her room at the Training Center, the place where she kissed my cheek still burning. Even without the flaming cape, she looks stunning. I, on the other hand, look ridiculous.

"You did great, kid," Haymitch says as he comes up behind me and gives me a pat on the back. I blink and mess up my hair with one hand. Haymitch still had has his hand on my shoulder, and I look up to find him giving me an inquisitive look.

"I'll see you at dinner, Haymitch," I say, pulling away.

"I'll see you," he replies. There's something strange in the tone of his voice, but I ignore it, preferring to think about how only a few minutes ago I'd held onto Katniss. For a moment we were together, one. That's when I realize what Haymitch is trying to do, and maybe the stylists are in on it, too. And then an idea floats to the front of my mind. I guess it's time I really align myself with Haymitch.

* * *

"Tomorrow I think I should be coached alone," I tell Haymitch. He doesn't seem surprised by this. He shouldn't. Not since I admitted the truth to him three days ago, after the tribute parade. The truth about how I have a crush on Katniss. How I really don't intend to survive. Outside of Haymitch and I, though, that card is still hidden. And I don't know if Haymitch knows that I intend to play it tomorrow at the interview.

"Big plans, then?" he asks with a sly smile.

"Yeah. I want to talk about my interview." Haymitch lifts one eyebrow in curiosity, but doesn't say anything. "I've got an idea or two about what I should say." He nods knowingly.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," I agree, and then I head to my room.

* * *

"I think she's upset with you," is the first thing Haymitch says to me when I come down to the Training Center the next morning. I'm still not quite awake, so I give him a puzzled look. "Katniss. About training alone." Oh yeah. That. "So, let's talk about tonight." Haymitch sits down at the table at the end of the room, and I pick a chair across from him. "Well? You said you had an idea?" I clear my throat, not sure how to say it.

"I'm going to talk about Katniss. I'm going to say I love her." It's the first time I've used that word, and I'm not entirely sure I'm there yet, but it does sound good. And maybe it is true. Haymitch is leaning back in his chair now, just scanning me.

"How?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can't just get up on stage and declare your love for her, kid. We've got to be careful about this." The front legs on his chair slam back to the ground. He leans in close to me; I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and I briefly wonder how he can even function like this. "No, you've got to be hesitant, as if it's a big secret."

"It is a big secret." Haymitch just smirks. This irritates me, and for a second I think about rescinding my cooperation.

"Caesar will ask about District 12, probably he'll even ask if you've got a girlfriend back home. Just take it from there." The smirk disappears for a moment as he scans me once more. I feel uncomfortable. But I've been feeling uncomfortable a lot since I got to the Capitol. It's still not something you get used to. "I have faith in you, kid."

And that's it for our little discussion. For a while, at least. He watches me toss a few things around the Center. I also show him how I can paint myself into the trees and the rocks. This he seems a little more impressed by, but he doesn't say much about it. I do hear him say something about it being useful in any case. There's a shiver up my spine and for a moment I wonder what might happen that I would have to use my painting for.

Because our plan is for me to team up with the Careers at any cost. Any cost except Katniss's death. A disguise for me would mean I was alone. There's no way I'd help the Careers hide like that. But I'll pretend to. I'll pretend to help them so Katniss will be safe.

It's a plan that will almost certainly get me killed.

I just hope it's later rather than sooner.


	4. Chapter 4

**I** never did get any sleep that last night

Portia comes with me to the Launch Room to help me prepare. As usual, her hair is styled so she looks as if she's just been shot up with electricity, and the spidery fake eyelashes do nothing to help. She doesn't even say anything to me as she helps me into my jacket, just sniffles. Portia knows the plan. They all do: Haymitch, Portia, Cinna…Everyone except Katniss. Katniss and the audience. Before I can pull away from her, Portia takes me into a big hug.

I'd really rather not even think about this. I've already accepted my death; that's what I spent all last night doing. That and trying to let go of Katniss. Letting go of her is arguably a more difficult thing to do than accepting my death. Finally she lets go. She opens her mouth, but I go on ahead without waiting for her to say anything. It's rude, but I know I need to focus. And that gets harder the closer the Games get.

I step on the cylinder and give a half-hearted wave to Portia, just so she knows that it's nothing she did. Then it starts to rise and I'm in darkness for a short time. The sunlight almost blinds me when the cylinder reaches its lock state. The smell of pine reaches me. I'm hopeful for Katniss.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!" booms Claudius Templesmith's voice. And then our sixty second countdown begins. My eyes scan the scene around me as quickly as possible. I only have sixty seconds. Sixty seconds to see where the Careers are. Sixty seconds to decide my path to the Cornucopia. Sixty seconds to decide how I will protect Katniss in this first bloodbath.

There are three areas in the arena, a downward slope diagonally from me, a lake behind me, and just ahead a pine forest. I look at the tributes around me. Katniss is about five tributes away and I notice her eyes locked on something in front of her. A bow. Her eyes flicker up to me and I give her the slightest shake of my head.

Haymitch said no. Run, Katniss, run. Don't even look back. I hope she sees me. We'll see when the gong sounds. But in these last few seconds before we are let go, I begin to set my course. The nearest Career to me is the girl from Two, just to my right. Beyond her are the others, far enough away that I shouldn't be a major distraction for them. I should have enough time, if only the girl from Two doesn't try to make me her first victim.

The gong sounds. I run towards the Cornucopia as fast as I can, looking up long enough to make sure that Katniss is getting away, that she's not going for the bow I know she'd love to take. But no, she doesn't go for the bow. She's headed for the wood, and so I look back, knowing she can make it. It's only my life right now that is at risk. And that doesn't matter nearly as much.

And luckily for me, the Careers don't choose me as their first target. I grab the bow; it's still a way from the Cornucopia and there's no one there to challenge me. I don't know how to use the thing, though, so I know I'll have to delve deeper into the Cornucopia. Around me the scene is already stained red with the blood of fallen tributes. I double-check to make sure Katniss is not one of them, but she's already disappeared. Safe. Safe for now.

It's while I'm checking this that the girl from One throws a spear at me. For a Career she doesn't have very good aim, though, and I manage to escape her attempt to kill me. But I don't move on, because I need this Career girl. I need all of them.

I turn to face her, ready to wrestle with the Career from One and I am pushed to the ground from behind. But Katniss was right about me. I'm much stronger than any of the Careers could have expected, and possibly even stronger than I realized myself. I grab the kid who has tackled me to the ground and roll us over. It's the boy from District Four. He grunts under my weight and I take the opportunity to wrestle a knife out of his hands. For a Career he seems awfully scrawny to me, but perhaps it's merely my vantage point.

He fights back and manages to throw me off, but now he's empty-handed. I am about to get up myself and grab him, perhaps to use as leverage against the other Careers, when something picks me up and slams me to the ground. My head is spinning but I catch a glimpse of the enormous boy from Eleven above me, a pack slung over one arm, and his right hand holding...what is that? Some kind of club? I start to crawl away, and I'm fast enough to avoid having my head smashed in, but not quite fast enough to avoid harm completely. His club bruises my shoulder and I fall again. He falls on top of my legs and I cry out in pain.

The boy from Four has recovered and he has a short sword in hand this time. Eleven scrambles to his feet and towers over Four, who is now just realizing his mistake. Four is dead before I'm off the ground. For some reason, Eleven doesn't turn back to finish me off, although now I could probably put up a good resistance since I'm on my feet. I'm not quite as big as he is, but now I'm facing him and I've got that knife in my hand. But no, Eleven runs off away from the lake and the woods. Perhaps he just got tired of the bloodbath.

While I'm musing over this, I can see the girl from One out of the corner of my eye. I'm ready now when she gets to me, a spear in hand. With just my knife, I fend her off, careful not mortally injure her. Not just yet. One Career is already dead and though two dead Careers might seem like a good idea short term, I know the others will be thirsty for blood and vengeance. There will be time for killing them later when I can be sure that Katniss is safe elsewhere.

A moment of wrestling and then I slice her hand, just to give her enough shock that she drops the spear and then I nail her to the ground. I glance up at the scene around me, ready.

Ahead comes the boy from District One, the girl from District Two behind him. I don't know where the boy from District Two is. Surely he's not dead, not out of these. I'm paying so much attention to figuring out where the other Careers are that I loosen my grip on the girl from One. Loosen it just enough for her to throw me off her and pin me to the ground instead.

And that's when I see the boy from Two.

"Looks like lover boy got himself into a little bit of a bind."


	5. Chapter 5

**F** or a minute I've forgotten my plan.

But before the boy from Two can say anything more, I make a move to get the girl from One off of me. But I've barely thrown her off before the boy from One is over me with an enormous spear. At least it seems enormous to me. From the ground.

"You probably shouldn't kill me," I say to One, but he just looks over at Two. They've already got a system. Briefly I'm afraid I may be too late.

"Why shouldn't we kill you?" asks the boy from Two. Cato. I think that's his name. I'm surprised he even bothers to ask.

"B-because-" I splutter. I've had this prepared, but nothing can prepare you enough for a kid holding a spear above your head. The boy from One looks at Cato again, waiting for him to say something. It's obvious who's in charge here. "Because I know where she will go!" I finally blurt out before Cato can tell the other Career to kill me. Pause. All the Careers share a look.

"Your girlfriend?" Cato finally says. He makes a motion toward the boy from One and the spear drops. "You'd sacrifice your girlfriend to save your own skin?" He sounds skeptical. I guess I was pretty believable before. Well, I should be. I never lied. Not until now.

"She's not my girlfriend," I huff, getting up off the ground. The boy from One backs away from me. "But I do know where she went. And if you want to find her, you're going to have to work with me." Cato considers this for a moment.

"Fine. But I can't promise you much more time than it takes to kill her," he says with a sneer. That's good enough for me, because I don't plan for them to kill Katniss anyway. "Do we have ourselves a deal then?" Cato reaches out with his right hand, which I take. So far, so good. "Who all do we have then?" Cato asks, looking around at the alliance the Careers have formed.

There's Cato and the girl from Two, Clove. The tributes from One are called Glimmer and Marvel. Terrible names, but people in the Career districts are all like that. Lastly is the girl from Four, Ariel. The boy from Four is already dead.

Nearly all the Careers. And me. We start off by collecting what is left at the Cornucopia. This is the strength of teaming with Careers. Almost no one else has a chance as the supplies in the Cornucopia, much less the good stuff. There's food to last for days, weeks even, and even split among the six of us. Dried beef, crackers, bread, fruit, nuts. And the Careers have taken the area by the lake, likely the best source of water in the arena. Maybe even the only source. My mind drifts to Katniss. Haymitch wouldn't let her die of thirst, would he? Haymitch hates Katniss, but I think we all know that between the two of us, Katniss is the survivor.

Bodies litter the ground, blood seeping into the rich earth the Gamemakers have filled the arena with. Everything smells fresh, from the waters of the lake to the blood on the bodies. The Gamemakers won't take the dead up until we're out of sight, although we all know perfectly well what will happen. The cannons have started to boom, however. One for each of the dead. Eleven total.

The Careers seem unfazed by all this, so I make my best effort to fit in. Everyone knows I'm not one of them, so no use reinforcing that point. But as soon as I can, I get away from the Careers, just for a few minutes. I can't get in far enough to tell where Katniss has gone, but I know where Haymitch told her to go. It won't be hard to find her later.

I take these few minutes by myself to slump down against a tree. I close my eyes and Katniss' name escapes my lips, barely a whisper at first, and then a groan. And that's all I say. It's enough. At least, I hope it's enough. Brushing the dirt off myself, I walk back to the Career camp, hoping that there was a camera on me at that moment. Surely there would be, after all that's happened. Peeta Mellark, the boy with the hopeless crush from District Twelve, teaming up with Careers.

Back at the camp everyone looks alert. There's someone new. I recognize him. He's the boy from Three. I have to wonder how he made it out of the Cornucopia. More importantly, why is he even here now? He's not very big, just some scrawny, shaking little guy, so he stands no chance against the Careers. I don't even bother to catch his name as I walk up and drop in on the conversation he's having with the others.

"I can get them out," he says. I have no idea what he's talking about, but he's pointing back over in the general direction of the Cornucopia. I look there now. The ground is still red with blood, but the bodies are gone. At least there's that. I turn my attention back to Three. "Reprogram them. Believe me, I'm really good. You could use them for whatever you wanted. Traps. Protection." Cato and Clove are practically drooling over whatever the boy from Three is talking about.

"Good. Good. You and lover boy can dig them up, then. Clove and I will head to the forest. Marvel, you can take Glimmer and Ariel the other way. We should be able to get in a couple of good hours of hunting. Then we'll leave off until tonight." Glimmer pouts at this.

"But Cato–" she whines.

"What exactly am I digging up?" They all look at me as if they just now realize I'm there. Which is probably exactly what happened.

"Three over here knows how to reprogram the mines," says Marvel, the first to recover from surprise.

"We could bury them around the supplies," interjects Clove, cleaning her nails with the tip of one of her throwing knives. "Think about it, Cato. Doesn't matter how long we stay away with that. Anyone tries to filch our stuff-"

"They'll be blown sky high," finishes Marvel. I look back over at Cato, his eyes gleaming with delight.

"Boom," says Cato with a malicious smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**T** here's a time for getting to know people, and this is not it.

I don't even ask what the kid's name is. Knowing names only makes it harder. This kid isn't some Career. Just a kid unexpectedly sentenced to death, like me. So we just go about our business, digging up the mines from around the Cornucopia. I hand them to the kid, who doesn't even look me in the eye as he says, "thank you." How long will it be until he's dead? Until we are both dead? He's got to know that his life hangs precariously upon the unity of the Career group, and before long even they will turn on each other. Who will be the first to go in all of that, him or me?

The mines have been replanted by the time the sky turns dark. Our supplies stand apart in a huge pyramid. Only we, the Careers and us two hangers on, know the secret path to retrieve the rations from our pile. Three and I were very careful about replanting those mines; no one who didn't already know the secret could pick out the patches of earth where they hide. Cato's eyes shine in the night. He's pleased. He's more than pleased. It's time for their nighttime hunt and the bloodlust on Cato and Clove's faces is apparent. There's a bit of it in Marvel and Glimmer as well, though they're not quite as eager. They tell the boy from three to stay back, to guard the food. And the mines.

"You, too, lover boy," says Cato. Part of me wishes he would stop calling me that; the other part of me knows better, though. So long as he keeps saying it, the Capitol will be reminded of our so-called tragic story. It'll only help Katniss. It'll only help Katniss.

"How are you going to find her without me?" I ask. How else am I going to keep them away from her? Cato thinks about this and then shrugs.

"Fine. Lead the way, then." The other Careers look over at me expectantly. I want to run away just looking at them, but I'm stronger than that. I have to be strong.

I take the Careers into the forest. It's not something I really want to do, because I do know that Katniss is in here somewhere, wherever that may be. But there's no one at the lake and honestly I'm a little afraid of encountering the boy from Eleven in those fields. So I plow on through, hoping that my behavior is subtle enough to not raise suspicion from the Careers, but obvious enough that those in the Capitol will know I'm not really on their side, and hoping that Katniss is well up in a tree by now. If she's still alive.

She is. We all pause and watch as the anthem plays and the Capitol seal shows up in the sky. Eleven dead. But not Katniss. Sighing with relief, I look around at my companions, observing their reactions to the fallen. What I see disturbs me. Pride. There's pride in their kills and it makes me sick, but I don't say anything. Instead, I try to look as smug as the rest of them do.

The night is near freezing cold, so it's not long after watching the fallen that we smell the smoke. I'm the first to run for it, to make sure it's anyone but Katniss, but Cato still makes it there ahead of me. I'm lucky that it's not Katniss at that fire. No. Katniss would never be that stupid.

"Would you like to do the honors, lover boy?" asks Cato, stepping aside. Clove and Glimmer both are holding back a girl with dirty blonde hair. She's pleading with us, begging us not to kill her. Clove just tugs her head back by the roots of her hair. I can tell she's just itching to do more. Cato's still waiting, a knife I didn't know he had held out for me to use against this girl. "Hurry it up, or I'll kill the both of you myself!" I feel Marvel kick me in the back of my knees and I stumble forward, nearly falling. A sharp pain travels up one of my legs. That's where the boy from Eleven fell on me.

I haven't moved in time. Cato gets impatient enough that he stabs the girl himself, right in the stomach, twisting a bit for good measure. Glimmer and Clove cackle, letting the girl buckle over as her clothes stain with blood. Clove pulls back on the girl's hair and, dipping one of her throwing knives in the girl's own blood, draws a smile on the dying girl's face. My stomach churns.

"Twelve down and eleven to go!" yells Cato. The others hoot and holler for him. I join in, and I find I'm pretty good at pretending to enjoy the kill. In fact, it's almost as if I really do enjoy it there for a minute. I watch the dying tribute twitch and press on her stomach, trying to hold herself together. "Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking."

We move along. Glimmer and Ariel both grab some wood from the fire to light the way, along with the flashlights Cato and Marvel have brought. But as we scan the forest floor, the group in high spirits, no cannon sounds. Only a deafening silence. We don't make it far before Glimmer vocalizes what I'm thinking.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?"

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately," responds Marvel.

"Unless she isn't dead," pipes up Clove.

"She's dead. I stuck her myself."

"Then where's the cannon?" asks Glimmer again. She shrinks at Cato's glare, but she has a point and even he knows it.

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done," says Marvel. Cato looks annoyed at this.

"I said she's dead!" Cato lunges at Marvel, and the girls all shout at him and soon they're all shouting above each other. I'm tired and irritated by all this, and to be honest, I'm a little concerned about that girl back there slowly bleeding to death.

"We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!" Cato looks surprised and impressed by my outburst. Quickly, I grab the knife from him and double back. The girl is only a few feet away from where we last saw her, crawling elsewhere. Squirming away for her life. A trail of blood paints the ground behind her; the embers of the mostly dead fire where she was encamped gives everything an eerie glow. Without hesitating this time, I grab her by her dirty blond locks and slit her throat.


	7. Chapter 7

**K** illing someone really changes a man.

The Careers treat me differently now that I've killed a tribute. That would be fine, except inside I'm dying. Perhaps I don't have to be so afraid for my life anymore, at least for now, but pretending to have enjoyed the kill is difficult. I didn't enjoy it. But, for the Careers' sake, I must pretend.

And for the audience? For them I take a few minutes alone. It's just the audience and I right after I kill the girl in the forest. The Careers decide to go back to their encampment by the lake, but I pause and use my knife to carve a few letters into the tree:

KE + PM

This works twofold. The audience still knows I love her and it serves as a possible warning to Katniss. Hopefully she won't come this way. She'll follow Haymitch's advice and find a source of water far away from the reach of the Careers. There's a stream in the forest—we saw it as we passed it earlier during our hunt—so perhaps she settled in that area. I know the Careers will want to go back to the stream again, though, because we didn't look much around there the first time. I'll have to be careful.

And hope Katniss doesn't get killed before then.

But the cannon for the girl I killed is the last cannon we hear before finding our way back to camp. Everything is still in order. The boy from Three looks nervous, but Cato finds nothing wrong, and so we all settle in to sleep. I don't get much of that. I can still see that poor girl's last moments, bloody, crying, begging for mercy. I squirm on the ground; once I wake up with a start, thinking I feel something wet beneath me. Blood. Blood. It has to be blood, but it's not. I've rolled away in my sleep close to the shore of the lake. I'm a bit muddy, but fine otherwise.

Fine otherwise.

As I come to my senses, I look up at the sun high in the sky, and for a moment in my fatigued bleariness, I think I can see Katniss's face. I panic, but then my eyes settle. I'm imagining things. Hardly more than a day in and I'm already going mad. I stand up and stretch out my body.

I can't let the Games get to me already, as much as the Capitol would like that. Insanity is a crowd-pleaser, provided it's not cannibalistic, but I have make sure Katniss gets out of this alive. I'm not allowed to go mad, not until I'm on the verge of death myself. No. Not even then.

It feels like there's something lodged in my throat for a minute. It's not the first time it has occurred to me that Katniss might have to kill me, but it's an unpleasant and unwelcome thought all the same. To my fortune, the boy from Three approaches me with an apple.

"Hungry?" he asks. I take the apple gratefully. The others are still all asleep, preferring to do their hunting later, at night when presumably the other tributes will be looking for shelter and rest.

Despite the boy's show of companionship by bringing the apple to me, he and I don't speak as we eat. Truth be told, I'm not even that hungry. There's a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that has been there since the day of the reaping. But I know I need to eat something. I need to keep going on. Not for myself, of course. We all know that. I think the boy from Three knows that, too. I can see his eyes darting up at me every once in awhile, but I pretend not to notice. As far as he knows, I'd be just as happy to kill him right now. I'm not like the others, and I didn't choose him as ally.

And really, how long does he honestly think he's going to last? It's a horrible thought, but it's the truth. His survival is dependent on his ability to guard the supplies for the Careers, but pretty soon they won't need that assistance anymore. At least I've been able to prove that I can kill.

Late in the afternoon the others start to wake up, and pretty soon the boy from Three and I find ourselves doling out food to them. They're all restless. It's been hours since the last kill and the day goes on. There's something sick in all their eyes. I didn't notice it before, but now I can see it, and perhaps it's in my own as well.

It's a weird situation all around, because as the Careers wake and eat it almost feels like we're not all in a death match. I watch Glimmer batting her eyelashes at Cato, for example, and wonder what she's thinking. Cato pays little attention to this. Perhaps he's used to that kind of attention. Clove and Marvel are playing a game, each trying to see how far they can throw Clove's knives. In another day or two all of these people will be at each other's throats. Do they even remember that? It's probably best not to.

Night falls. The anthem plays, but no one has died today. I already know this, but it still brings me relief not to see Katniss's face in the sky. The relief is brief, though. No one else has died, either. There are still plenty of tributes in play.

And that's when our night hunt begins once more. But everyone has found a suitable hiding place for the night. We do manage to run across one of Katniss's traps, but she is nowhere to be found. I let out a sigh and lead the Careers away from it. The next one I see I trip on purpose with a stick and quickly hide it before they come around the corner.

I don't know how long we've been in the forest when we hear a strange sound in the distance. A whooshing at first, and then crackling. And then I smell smoke. Oh no. Oh dear God, no.

"This way!" shouts Cato and we all follow. The smoke is pretty far in the distance, but there is a lot of it and so it's easy to smell. Where there's smoke, there's fire, and that is exactly what we find. No tributes. Just walls of fire ahead of us. I begin to cough almost immediately, struggling against the thick smoke. No one pays any attention to me, because they're all coughing, too, and tripping over the rocks and branches around us.

All of a sudden, a ball of fire comes racing toward Glimmer. Without hesitating, I knock her down. She gives a little cry as we land on a rocky area, and then she pushes me off.

"Get off me, lover boy! I don't need your help!" But I see it in her eyes. She owes me her life, and she knows it. I hadn't even intended to save her, really. It was reflex. Really, it would have been better for me if she had died. But that is how it goes. The six of us make a break for it, because now the fire seems to be closing in.

Marvel nearly knocks me over in his attempt to scramble out of the way of the fire. He does the same to Cato, who reacts much more violently than I do, pushing back at Marvel and threatening him with the sword. We're just about out of the fire now, so Marvel argues back. Once again we're at this. The girls all start screaming as the boys start knocking at each other.

"Can we all just stop it and move on?" I yell above the rabble. We're all dirty, and banged up, and a few of us even a little burned. Without waiting for them to stop, I push through the trees. Ahead of us lies a pond. And there's someone in the pond. I squint, trying to figure out who it is.

 _Shit._


	8. Chapter 8

**T** he others have chased her up a tree before I can think of a plan.

Credit where credit is due. Katniss is much quicker and cleverer than I would have been in that situation. I barely am able to hobble along after the Careers and I kick at the dirt while they exchange quips. My mind races, trying to think of a way to get her out of this, but honestly she is just making it worse.

My heart skips a beat when Glimmer tries to shoot Katniss down with the bow, but Glimmer is incompetent. Nothing like Katniss. Katniss would have shot us all dead given the bow. Given that chance.

An idea occurs to me.

"Oh, let her stay up there," I say. "It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning." To my great fortune, the others agree. I look up at Katniss one more time, but she's not paying attention to us anymore. Not that she ever paid much attention to me anyway.

 _Just please don't hate me._ I only want one chance to tell her that this alliance is the lie and not what I said before. Maybe. I mean, I couldn't say I really love her. But I care. I care a lot. Maybe I do love her.

The Careers do what they did before, flirting and playing until they're worn enough to lay down. They agree to take shifts, watching and waiting for the moment Katniss has to come down from the tree. I am not given one, effectively ruining my first plan. I guess despite my proven loyalty to the Careers, Cato still doesn't trust me enough not to help my supposed girlfriend kill them in their sleep.

The fires of our torches burn low and we throw them together in a common campfire as Clove takes first watch. I watch her for a while, willing myself to stay awake, though I'm exhausted. Minutes tick by slowly. Painfully. I watch as Clove trades off with Marvel and Marvel with Cato and Cato with Glimmer. Ariel sleeps soundly. Her turn comes next.

I've positioned myself to try and keep an eye on Katniss, but it's hard to see her in the dark. I know she's still there, though, and my mind races trying to find a way to get her out of the tree safely and away from the Career pack. I've bought her time, though, so maybe she'll think of a plan before I do. When Glimmer falls asleep on her watch, my heart leaps. An opportunity to get Katniss out of here. I'm about to get up when a large object crashes to the ground and bursts into a tornado of buzzing rage.

Glimmer is screaming. Ariel, too. My body is lit up with the sharp pain of a thousand needles piercing my skin. Those aren't needles, though. They're tracker jackers, and the effect is almost instantaneous. I leap up immediately and start running as fast as I can, wobbling from the poison. The weapons don't matter. Nothing matters except getting away. I hear some of the others screaming about getting to the lake. They won't follow us underwater.

My mind clears when I've finally reached that pool of water and the stinging sensation is gone. A cannon goes off. Maybe two.

"Katniss," I say breathlessly. The tracker jacker venom is still working, still making it hard to think straight, much less run straight, but I have to at least know if she got out. There's a sort of shimmery haze around everything. I trip over Ariel, who is clearly lifeless. That's one cannon.

In the distance I think I hear some of the others yelling. Male voice. Not Katniss. Female voice. Still not Katniss.

 _Please let her be alive. Please just let her get out of here._

The tracker jackers have only slowed the others. Ariel's dead, and someone else, but there are at least three angry Careers tearing around the forest now, the tracker jackers finally gone. I'm now focused on finding the other body and on finding Katniss, hoping those two are not one in the same.

As I run, I find Marvel's spear on the ground. He must have dropped it, deciding it was not worth it while trying to get away from the tracker jackers. I pick it up, just in case what I find back at the camp is not Katniss, and some angry Career. If it is a Career, I will kill them.

But as I burst through the brush, there is Katniss knelt above a body I can't make out right then, an arrow half-heartedly pointed in my general direction. I am overcome with relief, and then panic swells once more. Three Careers are coming back, blinded by a new rage.

"What are you still doing here?" I hiss. Her face registers only confusion and I can see now she's been stung as well. "Are you mad?" I turn the spear around and poke at her with it. I'm probably not being particularly gentle with her in her poisoned confusion, but it's the best I can do while I try to fight off the poison in my own stings and listen for Cato or the others. "Get up! Get up!" I'm screaming now, desperate for her to leave, to find some safe place to rest far away from here. "Run! Run!"

I can hear the crashing and slashing behind me. At last, Katniss darts off, stumbling over herself. I turn around and see Cato, dripping wet, his eyes wide with rage. As wide as they can be. There's a tracker jacker sting under one.

" **YOU!** " He roars. I know he's seen what I've just done. I've blown my cover. "You were working with her all along!" His eyes then dart down to the lifeless body below me. "You killed Glimmer!" There's no use arguing with him. The sword swings in my general direction. Cato is being just as affected by the venom as I am. I duck, although the sword was actually nowhere near me, and tackle him at his knees.

Cato is a much more formidable opponent than anyone else I've encountered in the Games, but I do my best to keep him down. It's not enough and he throws me off after a minute or so of struggle, grabbing his sword again. I have the spear, but it's a weak weapon in my hands. I miss several times before meeting spear and sword. The spear snaps and the sword comes down, slicing my thigh.

I can hear Cato's maniacal cackle all the way through the forest to the stream where I finally collapse from the pain and the shock. Finally I look down at my leg, and the sight makes me vomit immediately.

Despite the loss of blood, the nausea, everything, I know I have to keep going somehow. I can't just sit here out in the open, waiting for Cato to finish me off. Katniss is still alive. The Careers are still alive. And I'm still alive. Any breath I have left is a breath needed to make sure Katniss stays safe.

So I do what I do best. I create a portrait out of the mud and the grass and the muck all around me, hiding my body, until I at last become part of the earth. The dirt and mud both cool and inflame the pain in my leg and I know this is likely where I will die, but at least I will die still me. I won't die a Career. The whole world, because I made her leave and I did what I could to hold back Cato, will at last know that the boy from District Twelve was more than some kid shoved into the Games, motivated by mere self-preservation.

"Katniss," I whisper. She is alive and there is still hope, and as long as there is still hope for her I will do what I can. "Katniss." I repeat her name until I pass out from the pain and the shock and the exhaustion. Katniss. Katniss. Katniss.


	9. Chapter 9

**T** he trees whisper back at me.

 _Katniss._ The stream adds a chorus to our song. _Katnisskatnisskatniss._ It is a musical for which I am unprepared. There are black and white birds flitting back and forth, repeating after the trees, the stream, and I. Mimicking us. Mocking us? No, I remember these birds. They were on the edge of the forest that bordered District Twelve. I never crossed over into their territory, of course, but I saw them. I heard them.

But now they come close and I can see into those dark beady eyes. When they land, the trees bow low and I could just reach out and touch, but I dare not. I dare not disturb the magic of the forest. I am awed and afraid. I am a little boy who has never left the porch of our bakery until today, afraid of the consequences of venturing off by myself. I can still feel the coals against my skin for the last time I wandered off alone.

But somehow now I am in the forest and there is a chorus around me. A five-year-old girl in twin braids stands up in front of us and leads the song. Even the birds listen. I watch her face intently as it steadily grows older and more troubled. The clouds gather and the light in her eyes dies. The rain pours down and I am staring at an older girl on the edge of death, just beyond my direct reach. Her voice fades and then returns, not in a song, but in a scream.

I scream, too, knowing what is coming next. Well, for that, and for the pain in my leg, which brings me crashing back into the present where I can see myself dying and she is still beyond my reach. I scream without opening my mouth, because somewhere in my brain there is a voice telling me to keep quiet. _Don't give yourself away, Peeta. As long as you're alive, she's alive._

It's nonsensical, but it keeps me going in those moments between the dreams and the songs. It keeps me whispering her name so they know. And maybe she will know, too. I think I hear a cannon now and again, but I'm so delirious it's hard to tell. Is that a real sound or is it something from my hallucination? The boom of a cannon or a peacekeeper's gun? I try to turn my face to the sky, though my neck is stiff and I'm caked in dirt and mud. There are faces in the sky sometimes. I can't tell if I'm hallucinating or if they are really the faces of the dead. Either way, none of them are Katniss. None of them have the gray eyes of the Seam. None of them have that solemn strength that is unique to Katniss

"Katniss."

I let the word escape my lips on occasion, my real lips, dry and cracked from dehydration and illness. Through all the fog and the hallucinations and the raging fire in my brain I remember that it's important that she stays on top of my mind and at the tip of my tongue. Slowly I'm feeling myself coming back to normal senses. The dreams come less frequently. I have no idea how long I've been lying there. I feel unusually warm, thoroughly exhausted, and so dry. I'm dehydrated and probably starving, but I couldn't eat if I tried. The effects of the tracker jacker venom become less severe, though if I shift just so I can feel the bulbous tumors where I was stung. They still ache, but I can't do anything about that. At least they are no longer giving me hallucinations. The worst of my delusions have passed, but I am still dying. Slowly. Ever so slowly. I am dehydrated and starving and who knows what has become of my leg, ripped open and its blood spilled across the forest floor.

I hear the trumpets sound. This time it's real; it's no heavenly bird music. But it's not the announcement of the dead. That isn't the Capitol anthem and it's not followed by the images of the dead. I have no idea who is dead. I'd like to know for certain, but this isn't going to help me there. It's an announcement. Those are usually made for a feast, which I am definitely not capable of attending, but this is something completely different. Something completely unprecedented.

There are six of us left according to Claudius Templesmith. I am one. Katniss must be another, at least according to my reckoning. Admittedly my own recollections are probably not the most reliable at the moment. Still, it makes sense. I took Cato's sword, made sure Katniss escaped the wrath of the Careers. She may have been stung, but not any worse than us. It should have bought her time. It should have.

Six people left. I am one. Probably Cato is another. Then who? Glimmer and Ariel are dead. That leaves Marvel and Clove in the Career pack. Four. Katniss could be one. I hold onto that hope and fight to process what Claudius Templesmith says next.

There has been a change to the rules. Both tributes from the same district can win together if they are the last two alive. Two winners. Which means probably at least two districts have both their tributes still in play. My head swims but slowly, slowly I start to process what this must mean. At least two districts must have both tributes still in play. At least two to make any sense. It can't be One or Four. Who else is there? Who else could the Capitol audience possibly be so attached to that would lead to an unprecedented change in rules? Who is still alive?

I am alive.

Katniss is alive.


	10. Chapter 10

**I** t's funny, you know. I've had so many dreams about her.

So many kisses. So many embraces. But it's nothing like the real thing, there in that cave. Somehow it's both better and worse in real life. Better because something that is real is always better than the idea of the thing. Worse because, well, because I know I am still dying and I've put her at so much risk by being so useless. This is not what I expected when I considered my mortality that night before.

I take the opportunity to savor every kiss, every touch. I'm blown away by how much care she treats me with. True, she's still squeamish, and I know that there are cameras everywhere. But I hope some of it is real. Some of it has to be real, because I'm as good as dead and she's perfectly free to leave me be and hunt down the others. I know the rules have been changed, but what use is the rule change if it means making her more vulnerable? But no. She feeds me and kisses me and humors me when I ask for a story. It's so frustrating. The fever only makes my confusion worse. I swear, sometimes I just wish I could grab her and ask,

"Is this real or not real?"

I can't do that, though. As far as the audience is concerned, this is real. Katniss and I. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve, reaped together against all odds. How tragic. How romantic. How enthralling. This is what keeps her alive right now. So I continue to live the fantasy, trying all the while to maintain my own sense. Which is hard, not just because of the fever and the slow death. But also because I'm in love with her.

I'm in love with Katniss Everdeen.

It sounds crazy to me, even as I listen to her talk about the goat and her family. I love this girl, the way she gets caught up telling me about the people she loves most. She's dirty and grimy and there's blood under her fingernails and I love her. No one else sees this Katniss, not usually. They got a glimpse of her at the reaping when she volunteered, but she normally puts on that stony look and ignores any attempts to get close. At moments I wonder if I could have ever gotten to know this Katniss outside of the arena. She's normally so closed, that perhaps I had to end up in this position to ever fully put together all the bits and pieces that I've fallen in love with into one person. I'm privileged to be right here, even knowing there are cameras rolling in the background, even knowing I will die soon. After all, she rescued me from that riverbank. She came and found me.

The trumpets play. Claudius Templesmith again. Not to announce a rule change, but a feast. I could spit. The Capitol is bored. They want their blood. No amount of kisses could satiate those bastards. Romance was a nice interlude, sure, but The Hunger Games thrives on their blood lust. So a feast is called to get us all together and thrill the Capitol audience with even more gore. Ah, but this feast is going to be different though, according to Templesmith. Everyone left needs something. We need something. The medicine for my leg.

Katniss jumps up as soon as the announcement is over, but I grab her.

"No," I say. "You're not risking your life for me." She's safe here and I'm content knowing that in my last moments. Katniss won't have it, though, and I feel that nervous knot in my stomach. Is this real? Does she really want to risk it all for me? She's usually so bad at lying. I can tell even as she pretends now she won't go. Katniss actually wants to try and save me, at the potential expense of her own life. After all, Cato and Clove and Thresh - that huge tribute from District Eleven - are all still left. All much larger and more skilled than Katniss. Finally I seem to make her agree to stay, but she's not happy about it. I try to appease her as I eat my soup, even though I'm still not even capable of being hungry, but there's that stormy look.

Katniss goes out for a while and I lie back and let out a sigh. Safe, I must keep her safe. As long as I'm alive, she's alive. I'll guarantee it, if it's the last thing I do. Which it will be. I knew full well going into the Games I was going to die, but your own death always catches you by surprise.

Katniss returns before I can mourn myself. She has some mashed up berries that she insists I eat, which I do, because I don't want her to be mad at me. In my last moments I want Katniss to understand. _Forgive me, Katniss._

There's something odd about these berries, though. I can tell there's mint, but there's some other taste, too. It's overly sweet. A wave of nostalgia crashes on me and I know I've had these before. But that's not possible, is it? Sugar berries, she calls them, and I have never heard of those. I swear I've tasted them before, though. I reach for a way to describe them that might help me realize where I've had them before. Then a word comes to me.

"They're sweet as syrup," I say, that last word hanging in the air after I've said it. "Syrup." Before I can spit them out, Katniss has her hand over my nose and mouth. A poison. Not a poison to kill, but to make me fall asleep. How did she get it? Why is she doing this? I must get them out. Katniss has to be safe. She's smaller than I am and normally I would be able to pull her off and spit out the berries, vomit what I've already eaten, but I'm weak from the blood poisoning. When I do finally get her hand off my mouth, I wretch for a few seconds, trying desperately, but I'm fading already. The syrup is strong and fast acting.

I get maybe one more dry heave before I lost consciousness.


	11. Chapter 11

**W** hen I wake up she's there with me.

She's hurt, though, and I panic when I see the blood pooling around her head. For a full minute, I think she may be dead. But then I see the movement of her chest as she takes slow, shallow breaths. Alive, but injured. I press my hands to her forehead, but it does little to stop the blood.

I've hardly noticed how much better I feel when I move to look for something to stop the blood. It just barely registers that my senses are returning, that I have a fuller range of motion than before. Next to me on the ground is an empty syringe and I know she's saved my life as I was on the brink of death. This only makes me more determined to nurse her back to health. I notice some torn socks next to her, already soaked in blood, but I rinse them out with some of our water and press them to her forehead. I can feel the blood pulsing against my hands, but eventually it seems to slow.

I'm rinsing the socks out again when I hear the anthem begin to play. I look back at Katniss. The blood has trickled to a drip, so I think she can afford a minute while I see what has happened today. One death. Clove. I wonder if Katniss killed her, if that's where she got that ghastly head wound. I think back to my time with the Careers and remember watching as Clove practiced with those throwing knives. I remember her painting the face of the blonde girl with her own blood. It sends a chill up my spine. How Katniss managed to survive this encounter, I don't know, but she's here now and Clove is dead.

I turn back to Katniss and press the socks against her head once more. It doesn't matter now. Clove is dead and Katniss is alive, no thanks to me. Suddenly she has brought me back from certain death and brought back to life the possibility of returning home. I am wondering more and more as time goes on if Katniss really might have some feelings for me. She did risk her life, as the pool of blood on the cave floor testifies, to save me. I know the rules have been changed, but what is the likelihood that they're actually going to let the both of us out of here? She knows how the Capitol works as well as I do, knows this strange rule change was crafted only to elongate the Capitol's fancy for a doomed romance.

An intense warmth swells over me, and it's nothing like the fever I had before. Leaning over, I brush hair out of her face and lightly press my lips to hers. It's the first one I've given while I'm fully aware and I just wish she was awake to kiss me back. That's a selfish thought. When I owe her my life.

No. I knew from the beginning this was going to be for her. The romance, misleading the Careers, and now… now what? What is this? Those three days I spent in the training center, working out my plan to save her, I never imagined Katniss facing down the Careers to save _my_ life. The fight I had with Cato back after the tracker jackers, that I could have predicted. But then she shows up and pulls me from my deathbed. Those aren't the actions of someone who is indifferent.

I push aside those thoughts and set to doing what I can for her now. Her shoes and socks are soaked, so I pull those off. The nights have been ice cold, and I can feel the chill sneaking into our hiding spot in spite of the wall she presumably built before heading off to that feast. I set her things out to dry and move back to try and warm up her icy feet. I massage them and watch her breathing, making sure it's steady.

Then the rain starts. A trickle and then it becomes steady. I find out that our cave has a few leaks. After a bit of looking around, I find a piece of plastic that I wedge in betweens the stones of one side of the cave and it gives Katniss just enough protection from the rain. My stomach rumbles. For the first time in days I'm hungry. I'm starving.

Katniss still has a good bit of groosling left and, before I can reign myself in, I gobble down three pieces. When the third piece is barely down my throat I realize I can't keep at it, though my stomach still craves more. Surely Katniss should have some food to wake up to. Selfish again, when all of this is for her.

I can't help it. I lean over and kiss her again before tucking her into the sleeping bag. And there's something about all of this, about being trapped by rain in this little leaky cave with her, about knowing I could die at any moment, and about knowing that Katniss risked everything to keep me alive when she could have easily stayed it out alone, that fills me with a fire and a hunger that's unmatched.

I excuse myself to the other side of the cave, near the opening where I can wash my face with the rain, and I keep one eye on her through the night. She looks more relaxed now, tucked into the warmth of the sleeping back, under the safety of the plastic that keeps her relatively dry. I resist the urge to wake her up so I can kiss her again. Really kiss her. And hold her. And tell her how grateful I am, how I owe her my life, and that I'll do anything for her. That might be a bit much for Katniss. Or even for the Capitol. So I keep to myself through the night, reaching out for rain water to cool my face and my limbs every so often. I check my leg. It doesn't look pretty, but the pain is virtually gone. I breathe grateful breaths and the hunger calms.

The rain pours hard through the night. I think briefly of who is left and wonder how they are faring. Cato is probably furious without his district partner. I wonder if he felt anything more than a blind rage at losing an ally. Then there's Thresh, who stays out in the fields. He's almost certainly getting pounded by the rain at this point. And the girl Katniss calls Foxface. I know next to nothing about her or where she could be. I turn my mind away from those three and resume monitoring Katniss from afar, safe here with me.

When I think it must be close to dawn, I move back over to Katniss and start stroking her hair again. I want her to wake up. She needs to wake up. She needs to eat and drink and recover. I'm a little fearful that the wound on her head will start bleeding again, so I scrounge around some more (I'm feeling even better than when I first woke up now) and find a first aid kit. There are some bandages there just in case. I move back to Katniss and run my fingers through her hair, which is messy and charred. She had gotten caught up in that Gamemaker-induced fire ages ago when we were still on different teams.

"Katniss," I say softly. Then again. "Katniss." Whatever happens. However long it takes. I will be here when she wakes up and I will do anything, anything to keep her safe. Now that I'm not hanging onto life by a thread, I can actually take care of her. And hey, maybe we'll both make it out of this after all.


	12. Chapter 12

**T** hresh is dead.

So is the girl Katniss calls Foxface. And Cato… Cato cries and begs for death in the Cornucopia below. And the coldness of death draws nearer in the icy night. Katniss has tied a tourniquet to stem the flow of the blood, but I've lost so much already. It's a challenge of who can outlast the either. Katniss will outlast us both. Surely there must be a way to end this now. I want Katniss to just take the arrow from my tourniquet and end it one way or another.

It goes on and on and for some reason I see the faces of the dead in the sky, surrounded by a gray haze. I'm outside of my body watching myself slit that girl's throat again. Her blood turns into a swarm of tracker jackers and now there are the bodies of Glimmer and Ariel, bloated and nigh unrecognizable. Cato screams and moans. Juice drips off Foxface's chin. No, it's blood. And it's not Foxface. It's Katniss on the floor of the cave. I've done it. I've won the Hunger Games.

That can't be right.

There's a light boring down through my eyelids. I wake up in a white room. I try to sit up, but I'm tied to the bed and there are all sorts of tubes coming out of my arms. What has happened? I close my eyes again and try to remember.

Yes, yes I remember it now. I _have_ won the Hunger Games, but only because of Katniss. She's the real victor. When the rain stopped we went out. Then I had, in fact, killed Foxface. Not intentionally, but she'll be credited to me either way. And then the sun was boring down on us, the stream was dry, and then… Then the mutts. Glimmer and Marvel and Clove, all of them at once, growling snarling, snapping at my flesh.

My eyes snap open and I try to sit up again, only to be pulled back against the bed. But I tug at my bed covers and manage to pull away the corner covering my left leg. Where my left leg should be.

I resist the urge to scream. But it's weird. Below my left knee there is nothing, but somehow I still feel it. If I hadn't paused to think, if I had just drifted back off to sleep, I would think it was still there. Frustrated, I try to move the phantom limb, but of course nothing happens. There's nothing there. Just then I feel a cold liquid in my veins, something coursing through one of those tubes, and I'm unconscious again.

I don't dream this time. Or the next. I don't know how many times I wake up and try to grasp something that is not there only to be put back to sleep before finally I'm awake and there's nothing restricting me. I remember this time that my leg is gone, so as I start to jump up I very nearly knee myself in the face. When the shock has worn off, I take a moment to look down and examine the new limb I have been granted. Somewhere ahead of me a door slides open.

"Oh good! Just in time. It's going to be a big, big, big day!" I'm not even paying attention to her. I'm paying attention to the metal and plastic thing that lies where my left leg might have been. I look up just in time to see Effie give me a sympathetic look. "Oh yes, unfortunately they couldn't save the leg. But look at you now!" I swing around so my legs – one real, one artificial – are dangling off the bed. "It will make a marvelous replacement?" She pauses. "Well, I'm sure Portia can dress it up quite nicely"

I can't help but shake my head at Effie's priorities. She helps me off the bed and points to some pants and a shirt that have been laid out for me. I end up needing a little help with my legs, but I'm hardly listening to Effie's _tuts_ and _tsks._ I'm still processing. I'm alive. I'm clean. All the scars have been wiped from my body, even those that I had before the Games. The Capitol has made me cleaner, newer, healthier than I've ever looked – minus a leg.

Katniss' stunt with the berries worked. So the Capitol has decided they'd rather have two victors than none at all. I keep playing that last scene over and over in my head. By the lake, Katniss and I, her victory assured. Then she pulls out the berries and for a second I think, I thought, she was going to kill herself for me. Well, yes and no, it turned out.

Once I'm dressed, Effie leads me down the hall, yammering away as we go, but I'm not really listening. I'm both trying to figure out how this new leg works (it seems to respond just as easily as the old one) and trying to fit together those last few scenes before it all went dark. Trying to understand why I'm here, alive, out on the other side of the Games.

By all accounts, I should have died. I wasn't surprised when the rule change was reversed. What I was surprised with was Katniss' reaction. I mean, she had nearly convinced even me in that cave that she cared for me as much as I cared for her, but that last act of defiance surprised me still. How clever it was, and how dangerous. Was it really worth the risk for me? The Capitol could have just let us go through with the double suicide. No victor this year, or maybe named one of us a victor post-mortem. That wouldn't have sat well with either the districts or the Capitol, though. What would they have done come the victory tour, conveniently scheduled between the yearly Games in order to keep the Capitol's control fresh in everyone's minds? Trotted out the mentor and the stylist. But no victor.

My head's still a fog when I reach the room with Portia and Haymitch. Katniss isn't there. I want to talk to her. No, what I want is to kiss her. Take her in my arms and feel her heartbeat, her steady breathing. How else can I be sure that this is all still real? But they don't want me seeing her until we're reintroduced to the public. Days must have passed in that room, tied to that bed. While they kept me asleep, they nursed my body back to health, healed my scars, fitted me with my new leg. I'm still not ready to be presented quite yet, though.

The prep team helps me with the shower and double checks to make sure I haven't been growing back any facial hair. That was all lasered off before the Games. Turns out it's a little unnerving when an eighteen-year-old with a full beard massacres a baby faced twelve-year-old. More than usual. I'm ready then for Portia who suits me up and gives me a reassuring smile. If she says anything, I don't remember. I'm thinking about Katniss. About those berries. That double suicide that almost happened all because she wouldn't kill me and go home alone.

There's a wall up in the room under the stage and I know Katniss is on the other side. If only I could just talk to her. If only I could see her for just a moment before we perform this last show for the Capitol. I think about going over to the wall and knocking, if only to get some sort of response, to know she's really back there. Instead I wait patiently on my plate. I hear the roars from the crowds as each member of our team is introduced. The prep team, Effie, Portia and Cinna, Haymitch. Then it's our turn.

And then I'm being lifted to the stage. I'm past ready to see Katniss again. I don't even care what else is going on up there, who's watching, what else gets said. All I know is that I'm alive because she's alive and that means something. When we're up there they'll show it all to us again and it will give me time to think, to decide what is going on. The stage lights blind me at first, and the crowd deafens me. But then I blink and it all comes back into focus. And there's Katniss, dressed sweetly in yellow. She's no longer the fearsome girl on fire. And I suppose I'm no longer the tragic lovestruck boy with the bread.

We are victors.


End file.
